


The Work of the Eyes is Done

by SelfRescuingPrincess



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Genderswap, M/M, Pining while fucking, Tommy is in Congress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess
Summary: It isn’t until he runs his fingers through his hair that he panics. He bolts upright in bed, his hair swinging over his shoulders. And. What. The. Fuck. His body is not his body. This can’t be right. He's surely hallucinating. He runs into the bathroom, confronted with his face, which is not his face, but is still his face? He pokes at his cheeks, rubs his eyes. Stares at himself. He pulls out the collar of his v-neck t-shirt to look down at his chest. Suspicion confirmed. He is a woman. He immediately throws up in the toilet.
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 37





	The Work of the Eyes is Done

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [new and different ways](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948480) by [silklace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silklace/pseuds/silklace). 

> A heartfelt thanks to [okaystop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop) and [tommyandthejons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommyandthejons/pseuds/tommyandthejons) for being the best betas a girl could ever dream of.
> 
> Title comes from this quote: _“The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.” ~Ranier Maria Rilke _
> 
> I should also note that a scene from this (and basically the entire premise of the fic) was inspired by the scorching hot [“New and Different Ways”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948480) by [Silklace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silklace). So, maybe go read all of their stuff too.
> 
> Please be chill, and keep this secret and safe.

“Congressman Vietor’s office.” Jon briskly answered the phone, since he’s one of the only ones in this early. It’s 7:30am and he's already fielding calls. “No, I’m sorry he is unavailable.” Jon looks through Tommy’s office door where he is hunched over his laptop. They are about to fully enter re-election season, and Tommy’s considering running for Senate; this morning he’s outlining his platform. He likes to brainstorm early, before he gets bogged down in the daily insanity. “Yes, I will absolutely let him know you called. Again. Yes, I know. Of course, Congresswoman. It is one of his top priorities. Thank you.” Jon hangs up the phone. _Mental note: screen calls before 8?_

“You’re too nice!” Tommy teases him, calling out from his office. “Just hang up the phone!”

“I would never let my phone etiquette reflect poorly on the distinguished office of a congressperson.” Jon walks in Tommy’s office handing him a stack of folders, but not before smacking him on the arm with said folders. “You really need to call her back, though.”

“Was that Congresswoman Miller?”

“Yup.”

“It’s early for her! She wants to talk about the infrastructure bill?”

“Yup.”

“Does it still have those sneaky TRAP regulations in it?”

“Yup.”

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“You got it boss.”

Jon goes back to his desk to draft some letters to constituents. He looks back at Tommy, sitting on his couch, brow furrowed in concentration, the early morning sunlight glinting off his blond hair. Jon sighs. He goes back to his letters.

++++

“Hey Congressman, here’s your lunch- pastrami on rye.” Even though they’ve been friends forever, and Tommy is only a few years older than him, Jon makes it a point to use Tommy's title while they are in the office. It sets the tone. It's also, secretly, hot.

“It’s lunch time?” Tommy looks up from reviewing the legislation he’s reading that he’s about to vote on.

“Yeah, but you have to eat quick, sir- roll call is in 20.”

“I swear to god Jon, I wouldn’t get anything done if you weren’t my Chief of Staff. Chief of my fucking Life.” Jon tries not to let this praise get to him, but he feels it in the pit of his belly, nonetheless. He would’ve thought that he’d be past this by now- he and Tommy have been best friends forever, been through a hard-fought election and re-election together- but he always wants Tommy to think he’s doing a good job. It’s so stupid, but he can’t help it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jon places the thick briefing book on his desk. “Here, this is for your 2 o’clock.” It takes all of Jon’s energy to not reach out and straighten Tommy’s tie.

Tommy glances at the briefing book with a small grimace but turns his face back to Jon as he unwraps his lunch. “Nice shirt by the way. Is it new?” He takes a bite out of his sandwich.

“Oh. Uh. Thank you, Congressman. Um, yeah, it’s new. Now, don’t forget your vote- you’re down to 15 minutes before roll call.” Jon tries not to preen on the way back to his desk. He loves it when Tommy notices something about him. Tommy’s attention is a priceless commodity and it always makes Jon feel like he won something. It really sucks for Jon that Tommy is straight; when Jon agreed to be Tommy’s Chief of Staff, he knew he would have to manage his feelings, but some times are harder than others.

++++

Jon wakes up feeling groggy. He and Tommy and some of the other staff had gone out for drinks after an event last night. Tommy said it was for team building, but team building was less important to Jon than getting to spend time with Tommy outside the formality of the office. Not like he doesn’t spend literally 12 hours a day with him in the office, but it’s nice to see Tommy relaxed and smiling, sleeves rolled up. He has a great smile (and his forearms aren't too bad either). Though upon further reflection of the previous evening, Jon decides he might want to smother himself with his own pillow given how Lovett called him out for being a little too overt.

_They were up at the bar for their second, maybe third, round of drinks when Lovett looked at Jon pointedly. “Why don’t you take a picture of him? It’ll last longer.”_

_"What? What are you, twelve? Shut up.”_

_ "Your face is twelve,” Lovett retorted elegantly._

_“I’m not staring.” He probably was staring._

_“Yes, you are. You have actual googly eyes, which I didn't think could happen in real life. Look, just use the mirror behind the bar and be less obvious about it.”_

Jon really needs to get his life together. He sighs and rubs his eyes. He didn’t think he’d be this hungover, but he can power through the morning, he just needs some coffee. And if he needs coffee, then so does the Congre- _Tommy_. He decides to stop at Starbucks on the way to the office.

It isn’t until he runs his fingers through his hair that he panics. He bolts upright in bed, his hair swinging over his shoulders. And. What. The. Fuck. His body is not his body. This can’t be right. He's surely hallucinating. He runs into the bathroom, confronted with his face, which is not his face, but is still his face? He pokes at his cheeks, rubs his eyes. Stares at himself. He pulls out the collar of his v-neck t-shirt to look down at his chest. Suspicion confirmed. He is a woman. He immediately throws up in the toilet.

Jon sits sprawled on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. _What the fuck what the fuck what is happening._ Fuck, there is no way he can go into the office like this. He texts Tommy.

_[Me] 6:35 i think i have the flu. cant come in. _🙁

<Tommy is typing>

_[Tommy] 6:36 Bummer Chief, feel better_

<Tommy is typing>

_[Tommy] 6:37 Is there anything I can do? You want some soup? NyQuil? Healing crystals?_

_[Me] 6:37 No. Thx tho._

Jon smiles at his phone. Of course Tommy would offer to help. Jon sometimes wonders, if he asked, if Tommy really would drop everything to bring him psoup. Jon doubts it. Tommy has more important things to do.

At least he has bought himself a day or two to figure things out. He starts by immediately getting back into bed and curling up under the covers.

An hour or so later, he wakes up again. He feels his arms, shoulders, chest. Tits are still in attendance. So, it isn't a crazy dream after all. He’s heard of this kind of thing happening before, but he thought it was an old-fashioned myth like the vapors.

He decides his second course of action should be research. He starts on WebMD where he finds an article on “Idiopathic Re-Gendering and Resolution” which pretty much sums up his experience: woke up a different gender, no one knows why. Of course, they made it sound much fancier: “While it is unclear as to the physiological mechanism of spontaneous gender reassignment, there is evidence of a psychosomatic component. Our current biopsychosocial understanding of gender notwithstanding, altering social and/or relational dynamics may contribute to IRG resolution. IRG is rare, and as such much of the data are anecdotal, therefore, causation is undetermined and not well understood. Presently, there are no evidence-based therapeutic interventions.” _That’s a lot of words to say we have no fucking idea_, Jon- ever the editor- thinks.

He finds another scientific paper on Google Scholar, but it is even more technical and less helpful. He avoids the more sensational click-bait headlines (The Daily Mail: When Bob’s Your Aunt!) and clicks on a Dear Prudence letter at Slate instead. If anyone has something reasonable to say about this it would be Daniel Lavery, Jon reasons. The response was of course well thought out, encouraging the letter writer to reflect on their self-concept and gender identity, evaluate their romantic relationships, and that any pronoun choice should be based on what they felt to be accurate at the time. It was a kind and empathetic answer, but too much for Jon to absorb right now.

It’s noon before Jon has the courage to take a shower. He’s slept with women, it’s not like he doesn’t know what to expect, but still. He turns on the water, peels out of his t-shirt and now-ill-fitting boxer briefs, and into the tub. As he soaps up, he feels out his new body. His shoulders and waist are narrower, hips a little wider. He has actual boobs, which are weird, but feel kind of nice? He takes a breath and feels in between his legs. Tries to think of it like when he is with a new girlfriend. The bubbles are slick and smooth on his labia and that feels nice too, but he’s not quite ready to explore much further. He washes his hair but doesn’t use enough shampoo at first then ends up with way too much, so that’s another adjustment he’ll have to make. He considers, but ultimately decides not to shave his legs since he’s pretty sure this will all get sorted out pretty quickly, and also fuck the patriarchy.

He gets out, towels off. He tries to do the towel-turban thing with his hair, like he’s seen women do but it's loose and lopsided and probably won’t last. He finds his tightest pair of briefs and puts on some sweats. He finds several text messages from Tommy on his phone.

_[Tommy] 12:33 Hey Chief, where is that memo on the fuel economy?_

_[Tommy] 1:07 What did we decide about that solar company?_

_[Tommy] 1:15 Did we ever get back to the Quincy High School essay winners?_

_[Tommy] 1:17 shit you’re sick don’t answer any of these i’ll figure it out_

Jon can’t help but laugh. It’s pure Tommy, brain running a mile a minute, always wanting to help, to solve problems.

He texts back:

_[Me] 1:22 economy memo is in the pending file on your google drive. Look at the edits. Solar: nothing yet. QHS: yes, visiting your office next week._

_[Tommy] 1:23 you are a lifesaver _🙌🏻

_[Tommy] 1:25 i hope you are feeling better _😷

Jon feels the familiar flutter in his chest, which he tries to ignore for the infinity-eth time and decides that step three in his problem-solving journey will be to drink a beer and order Chinese.

He sits on the floor, his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, Moo Shu pork half eaten. He is back to research because he can’t figure out what else to do. The sun travels across the sky and he is no closer to having any answers. He finds some Medium posts but the few beers he drank are making it hard to concentrate, and all he reads is blah blah blah personal journey blah. He turns on Netflix to watch a Law and Order marathon and play solitaire on his iPad. It’s about all the brain energy he has left.

++++

The next morning, he wakes up hopeful for about 0.5 seconds until he realizes nothing has changed. Fuck. There is no way he can go into the office like this.

Jon is busy wallowing on the couch five episodes deep into SVU when he hears a pounding on the door. He peeks out the peephole. Shit. It’s Tommy, and he has a paper bag in his hand from the Jewish deli down the street, which means he probably has some food for Jon and he probably won’t go away. _Mental note: never lie to Tommy._

Jon coughs really loud, “Hey Tommy-” shit; he tries again with a lower voice, “Hey Tommy, I’m, um, super contagious, or I’d totally let you in.”

“C’mon Jon, I had my flu shot. I have soup for you. It’ll get cold.”

Jon stands there in a low-grade panic in his baggy sweatpants and t-shirt. Why does Tommy have to be thoughtful _and_ pragmatic?

“Jon? You okay?” Tommy calls through the door.

Jon is frozen. What could he say that wouldn’t be alarming but rather totally chill and cool and will also get Tommy to leave him alone? Nothing. The answer is nothing. And he still can’t move from where he is stuck to the floor.

“Fine, be that way.”

Jon hears keys jangling on the other side of the door as Tommy pulls out the spare key he has to Jon’s place. The door opens, and Tommy sees him, in all his lady-version glory. “Jon?”

“Hey Tommy.” Jon gives him a tiny wave. He feels small, disheveled, and caught-out at Tommy seeing him like this.

“So, not the flu then.”

“Not the flu.” Fuck. Jon knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Tommy forever, but a spontaneous portal to another dimension would be super convenient right now.

“Then, can I come in? Since you aren’t actually contagious for real?”

Jon takes a few steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not wearing a bra. He doesn’t own a bra. _Mental note: bra?_ His hair has to be a mess. He makes another silent memo to keep hair ties in his desk drawer for emergencies. He probably should have been doing that for office staff anyway.

Tommy walks into the kitchen, comfortable in Jon’s apartment, and sets the bag on the counter. "It's Matzo ball soup. Lovett insisted it has healing properties, but that might be specific to actual viral infections and not...uh, you know, this." Tommy waves his hand in Jon's general direction.

Jon grabs two bowls out of the cabinet. "You didn't have to come over." He feels sheepish for pulling Tommy away from his schedule.

"What kind of person would I be if I didn’t check on my best friend? Besides, I can’t risk my office falling apart because I neglected the best chief of staff on the Hill, now can I?" Tommy ladles soup into the bowls.

"Ah, the real reason comes out," Jon chuckles.

Tommy puts a warm hand on Jon's shoulder, concern clouding his face. "Seriously though, what's going on? Are you okay?"

They sit at Jon's tiny kitchen table. "Um, honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to do some research-"

"Of course, you have."

"-but there isn’t much information out there, so I don’t know. As Our Lady of Perpetual Fierceness Beyoncé once said, 'I woke up like this.'"

Tommy is laughing, his cheeks flushed. "What, flawless?"

Jon looks down at his rumpled t-shirt, runs his fingers through his messy hair, and shrugs a shoulder. "I mean, obviously." He grins back at Tommy, then lets his hair conveniently fall over his face to hide his blushing face at this unexpected compliment.

++++

A week has passed, and Jon hasn't changed back. He’s back at work, which is definitely better than being at home feeling useless, but it’s an adjustment. One day Tommy leaves a small bouquet of gardenias on his desk with the note _“Hang in there Chief. You’re doing great. XO -T”_. It’s a really sweet gesture, but it also sends Jon into a spiral- would Tommy have ever sent him flowers if he was still a man? Why did he sign it “XO”? It’s not like Tommy has made any overtures to Jon before. How should Jon respond? What does it all mean? He stares at the flowers. They are beautiful. A little later that afternoon, Jon chickens out of thanking Tommy to his face and instead sends Tommy a text while he’s on the House floor.

_[Me]: 3:47 hey thanks for the flowers_

_[Me]: 3:47 you didn’t have to_

_[Tommy]: 3:48 you like them?_

_[Me]: 3:48 yeah of course _

_[Me]: 3:48: they’re really pretty_

_[Tommy}: 3:49 good. I’m glad. I gotta go vote. Be back in the office in 45._

It doesn’t really resolve anything, but at least he is able to acknowledge the flowers without having to be confronted with Tommy’s blue eyes, and now he also has 45 minutes to compose himself.

Tommy walks in the office about an hour later and pauses at Jon’s desk. He points at the flowers. “You really do like them? Are they too much?”

Jon looks up from his computer screen. “No, Tom, I do. I like them.”

Tommy looks relieved. “Okay, good. I thought, I don’t know, I know it’s been stressful for you, but I wasn’t sure what to do. So.” He gives Jon a little shrug.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before. It’s kind of nice. Dudes should get more flowers.” They do brighten up his desk.

“Fuck. It’s weird that I got you flowers, isn't it." Tommy crosses his arms over his chest, his suit jacket pulling at his biceps. “Is it weird? You can tell me.”

Tommy suddenly looks uncomfortably tense; Jon feels an overwhelming need to calm him, reassure him that the flowers are lovely, and he didn’t do anything wrong. He stands and steps around his desk. “No! They’re good. It was really, um, sweet. Thoughtful. I like looking at them. They smell nice.” Jon keeps trying to smooth the furrow in Tommy’s brow with his words, but nothing sounds right, and it doesn’t seem to help. He finally puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Seriously. Thank you. I really like them.” He feels an infinitesimal amount of tension leave Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy blushes, “I don’t know why it seemed like the right thing to give you, it just did.”

A junior staffer, still typing on his phone, walks up and interrupts, “Hey Mr.-Ms.- um Mr. Favreau?” He looks up and notices Tommy. “Oh! Sorry, Congressman! I’m so sorry to interrupt!” He looks minorly stricken.

Jon pulls his hand back at the same time as Tommy reassures the staffer, “Oh, you’re fine, Steve. It’s no problem.” He turns to Jon, “I’ll let you get back to herding the cats.” He heads to his office, and Jon focuses on Steve.

“What d’you got for me?”

++++

It’s now been three weeks, and still nothing has changed. So far everyone has been cool about it, at least to his face. Apparently, something similar happened to a Senator's aide last year. Other than the fact that they worked for a Republican, Jon wonders why he hadn't heard about it.

Jon has had to buy some new clothes, because his regular clothes no longer fit or look right. He enlisted Alyssa to help and he legitimately feels a little better in clothes that fit him properly. He’s been wearing his new wardrobe all week, but this is the first day he’s ventured into wearing a skirt. He was skeptical of the purchase, but Alyssa kept telling him how hot he looked in it, and he relented in the end. He decided to test-drive the skirt on a Friday, just in case it looked dumb, then he wouldn’t have to see anyone except for the rest of the senior staff until Monday. He puts on the pencil skirt, along with a cashmere sweater and ballet flats- he refused to buy heels, even if they were particularly flattering to his legs. He still feels a little self-conscious; almost like he’s giving up, like he might never figure this out, never get back to himself. Alyssa told him he might as well have fun with it while it lasted. Lovett said he was jealous Jon got to wear a skirt and then went on a tirade about sundresses. So who fucking knows. What Jon does know is the look on Tommy’s face when Jon came into the office that morning is like nothing Jon has ever seen before; maybe the skirt was a good move.

On the other hand, he keeps getting side-eyes and even blatant stares from guys in other congressional offices as he runs around the Rayburn Building. He’s not sure if the glances are because he’s Jon-in-a-woman’s-body, Jon-in-a-woman’s-body-while-wearing-a-skirt, or if this is what all women-who-have-a-body experience, because he definitely did not get these looks from these guys before he switched. If it’s the latter, and he suspects it might be, he’s going to have to think a lot more about workplace dynamics. Thank goodness Tommy isn’t being weird. Tommy looks at him the way he always does. At least, he looks at Jon like he always does except possibly when Jon wears a skirt.

It’s after 7pm, and everyone else has gone home, but Jon is still in the office helping Tommy polish a statement that he will be making on Monday in support of adding funding for battered women’s shelters to allow pets. They are sitting on the sofa huddled over Tommy’s laptop. Jon can feel Tommy staring at him. “What?” Jon asks dumbly. He is briefly reminded of the look Tommy gave him earlier in the day.

Tommy shakes his head. “Uh, nothing, just um, thinking about my first term. When we didn’t know anything.”

Jon laughs. “Yeah we were a pair of idiots.”

They had felt utterly out of their depth, how could they possibly be the ones in charge? In those early days Congress seemed like an exponential leap from the General Court, but there they were, “Representative Thomas F. Vietor IV | Massachusetts” on the nameplate and everything. They could barely believe Tommy got elected, but not only did he talk about a lot of great progressive ideas, he spoke of them as only someone who truly believes in them could, and he fought hard to convince the voters he would do his best by them. It was a tight race, but he earned every vote he got, and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts sent him to Washington, DC on their behalf. Twice. Looking like he stepped out of a catalog of mail-order Kennedys didn’t hurt either. And so here they are, working hard and legislating with all their might to make the world (and the 8th district of Massachusetts) a little bit of a better place.

“I’m glad I had you with me to figure it all out.” Tommy is so sincere it almost hurts.

“I don’t know that we have anything figured out.” Jon smiles at Tommy. He flashes back to that first election night three years ago, when Tommy kissed him in the early morning hours after much celebrating and many, many (many) glasses of champagne. It happened so fast, Jon almost didn’t think it happened at all. They never talked about it. They were drunk and swept up in the excitement, but Jon never forgot it.

“I think we have a few things figured out. Well, _you _figured them out. I’m just the face on the poster.” Tommy knocks his knee against Jon’s.

“It’s a good face.”

They sit looking at each other for a moment, when Tommy says, “Hey, it’s late. Are you hungry? Do you want to grab a bite?”

“Sure.” It’s been about 7 hours since the iced coffee that he convinced himself was lunch, and Jon is starving.

It’s a little far, but it’s warm out, so they decide to walk to Matchbox Pizza. They share a pizza and a bottle of wine. Over the course of their lives and multiple campaigns they have eaten many a pizza and drunk many a bottle of wine together, and yet when Tommy gets the bill, this time it sort of feels like a date. And if it is a date, it might be one of the best Jon’s been on- relaxed conversation, easy laughs, and there is no better company than Tommy. To be clear, Jon has never seriously thought about actually dating Tommy. Like, he would absolutely date Tommy in a heartbeat, but it’s mostly been an admire-from-the-other-side-of-the-room situation. A doodle-your-names-together-like-a-lunatic situation. A fantasize-only-late-at-night-or-in-the-shower situation. A daydream-and-feel-silly situation. Tommy is straight. Tommy is busy. Tommy is going to be the Secretary of State someday.

They are walking back in companionable silence when Tommy clears his throat, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, and says, "You look nice today, by the way."

Jon looks at him. "Oh, thanks. I wasn't sure about the skirt, but Alyssa said it was good so…" he shrugs as he trails off. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. Why don't women's clothes have any pockets? _Mental note: pocket legislation?_

"I like it."

Jon is grateful the dark evening hides his burning cheeks.

When they get back to the office, it’s almost 11. It’s quiet, in that late-night kind of way where you feel like you should whisper.

Jon is gathering up the papers they were working on earlier, when Tommy says, “Hey Jon?” Jon looks at him and he has an odd look on his face, like he wants to ask Jon to Homecoming. “I don’t tell you enough how important you are to this office. We wouldn’t get anything done.” Tommy steps closer and puts his hand on Jon’s elbow. “I wouldn’t be able to find anything or know where to get what information from which people. All my speeches would be dull and uninspiring.” Tommy’s hand slides down Jon’s arm, into his hand that isn’t holding a bunch of files. He takes another step closer. “You do so much for me, and I don’t tell you. I don’t tell you how important you are to me.”

And with that Tommy leans in and kisses Jon right there in the middle of his congressional office. The stack of papers Jon is holding all flutter to the floor as Tommy pulls him closer. Jon wraps his arms around Tommy’s neck, and he presses up against Tommy.

Kissing Tommy feels like sunshine made real- happy, warm, inviting. Tommy has one hand in Jon's hair, the other sliding down to the small of Jon's back. Sure, they kissed once before, kind of, but that doesn’t count. It was fast, and they were drunk, and Tommy was obviously caught up in the moment. It didn’t _mean _anything. _This _feels real and all of Jon's previous first kisses pale in comparison to this one.

There was the very first First Kiss in 8th grade with Sarah, walking home after school. That one had felt like he'd found the secret underwater level in Super Mario Brothers: a world he had heard about but wasn't sure it was real. There was the First Kiss with his first real long-term girlfriend as a junior in high school. It was on a Friday night after a football game and Michelle was a cheerleader and he took her to get ice cream after and it was a total cliché, but Jon didn't care. That one felt like a promise and wish wrapped up in one. They dated for 8 months and went to junior prom together. There was the First Kiss with his first boyfriend, Jacob, in college. That one he had expected to feel a lot different than the others, but it didn't. It was just sweet.

Tommy backs Jon up until his butt hits the desk. Tommy presses him against it as he kisses down Jon's neck. Jon can barely catch his breath- this is some Mad Men-level craziness, but fuck if it isn't the hottest thing that has ever happened to Jon.

Tommy is kissing along Jon's throat when he slides his hand under Jon’s sweater. Jon sucks in a gasp as Tommy's hand grabs his waist. Jon clings to Tommy's shoulders.

Tommy's other hand slides down Jon's thigh and he gets his fingers under the hem of Jon's skirt. Jon can feel the dampness of his panties and for a second, he is inanely glad he's wearing the pretty blue ones with the bow in the front. He’s never thought much about the state of his own underwear when hooking up with someone, probably because men’s underwear is kind of basic overall. But he always appreciated a nice pair of undies and now he wants Tommy to like his, too. Tommy pulls back and looks at Jon, his lips wet and pink from kissing. "Is this okay?"

_Is this okay?_ Jon almost laughs- this is unprecedented levels of okay. "God, yes Tommy" is what comes out. And with that Tommy sweeps the papers off his desk, lifts Jon onto it, and pushes up Jon's skirt like he's Kevin Costner in Bull Durham.

Tommy drags Jon’s underwear down his legs. Jon is leaning back on his elbows looking at Tommy kissing his way up Jon's inner thigh. Jon might die from anticipation. All the times he has fantasized about sleeping with Tommy and it's about to actually happen. Even if it can only happen because he's a woman he'll take it. It will be terrible when Jon switches back- whenever that may be- but that's Future Jon's problem. Present Jon is too turned on for anything else.

Just then Tommy pauses, and says, "Shit."

Jon lifts his head to look up at Tommy hovering over him. "What?" Is Tommy having second thoughts?

"I, um, don’t exactly keep condoms in my desk drawer."

"Oh." Right. They are in Tommy's _office_ for Christ's sake.

"But I still want to make you feel good."

"Okay?" Jon is breathless, both of them fully clothed, except for Jon's panties abandoned somewhere on the floor.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes," Jon whispers.

Tommy drags a finger up Jon's thigh, and continues along the inner folds of Jon's pussy. It sends a shiver up Jon's body, "Fuck," he breathes. It's different, obviously, but feels amazing.

Tommy starts stroking him in long slow sweeps and Jon can feel himself getting more wet. Tommy slides his index finger inside Jon and it zings up Jon's spine. Tommy is looking at him intently. "Good?"

"Jesus, Tommy- ah- it's- you’re- so good."

Tommy keeps his finger tucked in Jon, sliding in and out in short, shallow movements. Tommy presses his thumb against Jon's clit and fireworks shoot off behind Jon's eyelids. Tommy is whispering in Jon's ear as he starts moving his thumb in circles. "God, Jon, you're so beautiful, so gorgeous,” and Jon can feel his orgasm start to build, feel himself getting wetter even as Tommy says, “You're so wet for me, come on sweetheart, I know you want to come, I want to make you feel good, come for me, baby."

Jon’s thighs are shaking and he’s right on the edge, about to freefall into oblivion, his brain awash in dopamine. Is this what it's like to get off as a woman? Or is this just what it's like to get fingered by (the apparently very skilled) Tommy?

Tommy is still whispering in Jon’s ear, letting his lips softly brush Jon's earlobe as he says, "So perfect for me, so beautiful." His breathing becomes erratic as Tommy keeps swirling around his clit. Jon shouts Tommy's name as Tommy slides a second finger into Jon and he comes hard clenching around Tommy's fingers, his brain completely whiting out.

++++

Jon wakes up on a Saturday morning a few weeks later to a text from Tommy.

_[Tommy] 7:03 I don’t feel like going into the office. how about I come over? we can work from your place._

Jon’s stomach flips.

_[Me] 7:15 _👍🏻

Jon takes a hot shower, mentally preparing himself for spending the day working with Tommy in his apartment. It shouldn’t be any different from any of the other times he and Tommy have spent working on a Saturday, but Jon still feels tremulous in anticipation. Jon throws on a pair of jeans and a Holy Cross sweatshirt and after only three attempts, his hair is up in a ponytail, the whole time successfully managing to regulate his breathing.

He and Tommy sit on the couch in amicable silence. Tommy’s reading through some legislation he will have to discuss in committee on Monday. Jon is responding to the ungodly number of emails in his inbox. Jon has his back against the arm of the couch, facing Tommy, his laptop resting on his thighs. If sometimes he takes a moment to watch Tommy read, then that’s just what happens. Jon is being productive, forwarding emails to the relevant parties, responding to constituents, deleting emails from lobbyists, when he feels Tommy’s fingers wrap around his ankle. Jon keeps his head down but glances up through his eyelashes. Tommy hasn’t moved. He’s still reading, still chewing on his thumbnail. Except that his left hand is now tracing circles around Jon’s ankle bone, and down along the top of Jon’s socked foot. Jon tries to keep working, but mostly he pretends to read the email from the Speaker’s office, while focusing on not self-immolating.

Ever since that night in the office, Tommy has been noticeably more affectionate. He leaves his hand on Jon's shoulder a beat too long, runs his fingers along Jon's knuckles, winks at Jon from over the top of a manila folder. Not where the staff could see, of course, but Jon is keenly aware, cataloguing every interaction. It makes him hot all over, like he's back in high school with a crush.

And this isn't even counting the time Tommy pulled him into the copy room, Jon's arms full of memos and files, and grabbed his face kissing him solidly before walking calmly back to his office leaving Jon grinning like an idiot. Or the time they held hands in the back-corner booth of the bar during happy hour. Or last night when Tommy walked Jon home (because he's a gentleman) and then pressed Jon against his apartment door where they made out for endless minutes. Tommy may be a gentleman, but he is not a saint.

“You want to get some lunch?”

Jon looks up from his screen and blinks. “What?” Tommy’s hand is no longer on his ankle; he's closing the binder, capping his highlighter.

“Let’s get lunch.”

They walk to the Jewish deli down the block, the one with the Matzoh ball soup. Unconsciously operating on decades of social conditioning, both of them reach for the door at the same time, bumping hands. They laugh at their awkwardness, but Jon gets his fingers around the handle first. He pulls open the door. "Allow me," he says with a giant flourish and a bow. Tommy giggles as he walks through the door, Jon following after.

It’s a pretty spring afternoon so they sit outside on a bench to eat their sandwiches. They have been engaging in some high-quality people-watching when Tommy turns to face Jon, resting his elbow on the back of the bench, his chin in his hand. “So why do you think this happened?”

Jon also shifts to look at Tommy. “I have no idea.” Which is the frustrating truth.

“I heard about a guy in a Senator’s office a while ago, but no idea what happened to him.”

“Same. I’ve been reading about it, and there seems to be some kind of connection to, like, life issues or something? Lots of stories about 'personal journeys' and stuff.” Jon makes aggressive air quotes to adequately convey his irritation with the lack of information.

“A personal journey? Is this some kind of enlightenment thing?”

“I don’t know, man, you were the philosophy major.”

“I guess it could be like a Cartesian mind/body duality thing.” God, Tommy is so smart.

“Yeah, I guess.” _Mental note: what’s Cartesian?_

“Well, I think it’s pretty impressive how you are dealing with it.” Tommy takes a gulp of his orange soda.

“By avoiding it?” Jon has always been a champion of using work to escape self-assessment.

“What are you talking about, dude?! You’ve been doing all this research, you’ve changed how our staff meetings are run, you pushed me to sign on to the legislation encouraging research on the sizing of artificial hearts for women. It sucks, but it wouldn’t have occurred to me that that is a problem. Like, you’re really making me think hard about my role as a legislator and that means a lot to me.” Earnest Tommy is a lot for Jon to handle; he studiously investigates the label of his Boylan’s cherry cola instead.

“Well, those are all things I’d like to think I- you- we- would do anyway. I guess I feel obligated to use my position while I’m in this body?” The thing is, in reality Jon feels increasingly inadequate. Not because he is a woman, of course, but because there were things he didn’t realize. He got catcalled the other day and the next morning he found himself furious that he was second-guessing what to wear. His female friends have told him about some of what they face every day but sadly it’s something else entirely to experience it for himself. He also suspects they maybe don’t tell him everything because it’s just accepted- the general ambiance of sexism. It makes him feel like a shitty guy, and he wants to fix it.

Tommy chuckles. “That’s so typical.”

“What?”

“It’s just, you have this way about you. That you can always see the bigger picture. I’m lucky I have you.”

Jon chuckles. “Best Chief of Staff on the Hill, right?”

“I mean, sure my district is lucky I have you, but also, I’m lucky. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Tommy gets up to throw away his sandwich wrapper. “C’mon let’s head back.” He smiles and holds his hand out for Jon. Jon takes it and smiles back.

They walk back, Tommy still holding Jon’s hand. Jon unlocks his door, Tommy still holding his hand. Tommy leads them through Jon’s living room, holding Jon’s hand, ignoring the work that is strewn about the couch and coffee table, straight back to the bedroom. This is an excellent turn of events, and Jon hasn’t stopped grinning since they left the park.

Tommy swings Jon by his hand, twirling him around before pulling him into his arms. Jon giggles as Tommy’s hands slide down his back and cup his ass.

“Hey.” Tommy says, nuzzling behind Jon’s ear.

“Hey, yourself.” Jon leans into the embrace.

“Mind if we take a break, Chief?” Tommy presses their foreheads together, noses almost touching.

“But we just took a break to get lunch, Congressman.” Jon admonishes Tommy, but his heart isn’t in it. His heart has other priorities right now.

“I’m reclaiming my time.”

Jon laughs, tilting his head back. Tommy takes the opportunity to nip at Jon’s earlobe. He pulls Jon’s sweatshirt over his head, letting it drop on the floor, and walks Jon backwards to the bed.

_Finally_, Jon thinks. Other than the memorable night on Tommy’s desk, everything else they’ve done has been pretty PG-13. He wants to get fucked by Tommy badly, has for years, but he doesn’t want to push anything- he’s been trying to let Tommy decide what he’s comfortable with, given this new dynamic. Jon doesn’t want to scare Tommy off with how smitten he is, especially since when he changes back this will all probably stop. He can keep it fun and casual.

Jon is laying on the bed, Tommy on top of him, and almost doesn’t care that switching genders got him to this point, he’s just glad it’s happening. Jon closes his eyes as Tommy kisses down his chest, along the edge of one of the bras Jon finally broke down and bought. Tommy’s hands are everywhere, and with his eyes closed Jon can focus on their pressure, Tommy’s lips tracing his ribs.

Jon opens his eyes, when he senses a pause in Tommy’s tactile exploration. Tommy shifts back up so his face is close to Jon’s. He softly kisses Jon’s lips and Jon leans into it. “God Tommy, I’ve- I’m- I want you so much.”

Tommy’s smile when Jon says this is blinding and he chuckles. “Fuck, Jon, me too.” His hands hover over the button to Jon’s jeans. “May I?”

“Yeah,” Jon says as he exhales.

Tommy goes about the task of undressing Jon, pulling his jeans down and his socks off. Tommy takes his own t-shirt and jeans off and chucks them on the floor. He runs his hands back up Jon’s legs, pressing them apart, tracing around the lace edge of Jon’s underwear. Jon arches his back in desire, wanting to press himself against Tommy, but simultaneously feeling overexposed, like his skin might give away all of his secret feelings. He pulls at Tommy’s shoulders so he’s back on top of Jon, his solid weight pressing against him. He can feel how hard Tommy is through his boxer briefs, and Jon wraps his long legs around Tommy’s hips to pull him even tighter. He always liked it when other people did that to him, and right now it’s practically a reflex to want Tommy as close as possible. Tommy rolls his hips against Jon, moaning in Jon’s ear, the sound of which goes straight to Jon’s pussy.

Tommy trails kisses down Jon’s sternum, the line of his belly, and over his underwear. He mouths over Jon’s clit, and Jon can’t help the gasp that escapes him. Tommy pulls Jon’s panties down, looking up at Jon’s face for confirmation he can keep going. Jon isn’t subtle about how much he wants all of this to happen. Apparently satisfied, Tommy licks up in between Jon’s legs, sucking lightly on Jon’s clit. Jon can’t believe how good it feels; it’s almost like the first time he got a blowjob, but so much more. Tommy is attentive and focused intensely on Jon; the physical sensations are coupled with the care and concentration Tommy brings to everything he’s passionate about and the results are…. extraordinary. Tommy’s mouth is warm and soft, and his fingers are doing something indescribable. It’s enough to drive Jon completely out of his mind and suddenly he realizes how close to the edge he is.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy- I’m gonna- OH FUUUUCK!” He grips his comforter with both fists as his orgasm slams into him, throwing his head back against the pillow.

Tommy sucks him through it, fingers massaging the folds of Jon’s vagina, until he’s completely spent and oversensitive. Jon is breathing like he just ran a marathon, as Tommy wipes his mouth and rests his cheek against the inside of Jon’s thigh. He looks smug.

“Jesus Christ Tommy, where did you learn that?”

“I’ve picked up some tips and tricks here and there. Good to know they work in practice and not just in theory.”

“In theory? What do you mean? You haven’t-?” That can’t be right. Tommy could pick up any woman literally any time he could want. Though, the more Jon thinks about it, the life of a congressman doesn’t leave much room for dating.

Tommy sits up, shifting until he’s next to Jon, but facing him. He folds his legs so he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, drawing a finger along Jon’s naked skin as he talks. “No, I mean, of course I have! Just not in a while. There was one night on our re-election campaign- I think you and Lovett were doing some advance work for me in another town- I was supposed to give a speech somewhere...the VFW? Doesn’t matter. But there was that terrible storm, remember? And the power went out in the town I was in and there wasn’t much to do at that point. The power company was on top of it, and it was pouring, like, sheets of rain, so Alyssa and I said fuck it and went back to her place and got super high, and I don’t even remember how we got on the topic but we ended up giving each other very detailed instructions and uh, specific action items. She practically interrogated me about blow jobs—you know how she gets when she wants to know something—especially after I told her, you know, I’ve given and received. ‘A unique data point’ I think is what she called me. I hope whoever got into her pants later had a memorable experience. Anyway, she appears to have given me some solid advice.”

Jon is almost indignant about having been stuck in another town, unable to witness that conversation transpire. He’s dying to know who—or at least what—or actually let’s be honest, Jon wants every single, solitary detail of that conversation because- given??? And received???

Tommy is blushing all the way down his chest, but he just keeps talking like he hasn’t made some major revelation. “The point is, I haven’t been able to implement any of her recommendations since I learned them, so I’m glad to know they are as effective as promised. Though I don’t think I’ll be debriefing her on my after-action report or anything.” Tommy giggles as he scoots up and lays down next to Jon. Jon rolls onto his side to face him. 

“Well, 10 out of 10 can confirm effectiveness,” Jon says as he is hit with the realization that if the conversation with Alyssa happened on the re-elect, that was over a year ago. Has Tommy really not been with anyone since then? It’s true, Tommy hasn’t mentioned anyone, but when placed in context like this it’s still surprising to Jon. And what about the giving/receiving thing? Tommy is straight, isn’t he? But it would seem he’s given at least one blow job?

All thoughts fly out of Jon’s head when Tommy leans over, cups the back of Jon’s head, and kisses Jon with a sweetness that will probably sustain Jon for the next month, irrespective of anything else that has transpired in his apartment this afternoon. Tommy pulls the hair tie out of Jon’s hair—not that it was doing much at this point anyway—and his hair falls gently around his shoulders.

Jon shifts a bit so he’s more underneath Tommy than next to him. He’d forgotten how much he likes feeling weighed down. It wasn’t until college when he dated Jacob in the spring of his sophomore year that he realized how nice it could be to have someone big and broad on top of you. Jacob was tall and blonde and on the baseball team and oh god Jon has a type. He pulls Tommy more on top of him to ignore this epiphany; Tommy goes easily, the only thing separating them is the thin cotton of Tommy’s boxer briefs, stretched tight over his erection.

Jon runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair as Tommy starts rocking against Jon with increasing insistence.

“Jon, please, can I-”

“Yes, god, yes.” Jon reaches down and shoves at the elastic on Tommy’s underwear. His dick is beautiful, pink and velvety hot.

Tommy sits up and awkwardly wriggles out of them. “Where do you keep-”

Jon reaches across himself to open the drawer of his bedside table and grabs a condom. “Here.”

Tommy opens it, rolls it on himself, and leans back over Jon lining himself up. He pauses before pressing in to ask, “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” At which point Jon has a small moment of clarity realizing that while he has had several variants of intercourse before, it’s never been quite like this. Against all his instincts he adds, “But um, go slow? This is uh, different. For me, I mean,” he clarifies.

Tommy slides his dick in a little, then out, then in, working in small but ever deepening strokes with what must be an unbelievable amount of self-control. Jon tangles his legs with Tommy’s and runs his hands up Tommy’s broad back, wishing he could touch all of Tommy at once. When Tommy is finally completely inside of Jon, flush against him, Jon experimentally rolls his hips, and the sound Tommy makes will be embedded in Jon’s brain until the end of time. He does it again, and Tommy responds in kind. They work in tandem like this for several minutes, Tommy’s face a lovely shade of red with a light sheen of perspiration. Jon wants to make him come so much; he focuses on tightening muscles he was heretofore unaware of, until Tommy reaches down between them and starts pressing circles on Jon’s clit. Was this part of Alyssa’s instruction manual? _Mental note: thank you note to Alyssa?_

This orgasm washes over Jon slow and warm, happiness flooding every capillary, dendrite, and fiber in Jon’s body. “Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy please, I want you to, please come please, you feel so good, I want to feel you...” Jon continues to whisper in Tommy’s ear until he can hear Tommy sharply breathe in and feel Tommy’s body completely tense up. Tommy kisses Jon, cutting off the flow of words.

They lay there for some time afterwards, breathing together, regaining consciousness. Tommy deals with the condom, Jon gets up to pee, and that is all the extra activity either one of them want to bother with. Jon is happily curled up against Tommy, his head on Tommy’s shoulder, warm under the blanket, with Tommy’s arm wrapped around him.

Tommy finally breaks the silence. “That was...actually mind blowing.”

Jon grins into Tommy’s pec. “Yeah, that was…” How could Jon even begin to describe something that turned out to be even better than anything he could have imagined? “That was...wow.” It’s all he can come up with. He notices the light coming in through the blinds has diminished, the afternoon quickly becoming evening, both of them giving up on any chance of doing more work. Jon is feeling loose and content, so he takes a chance.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“What, sweetheart?”

The pet name makes Jon feel tingly and gives him the confidence to proceed. “Would you like to stay tonight?” _Or you know, maybe forever?_ Before today, Jon had tried to resist getting too attached, but he is realizing with every passing minute that that ship has sailed, and Tommy is the Captain.

“Yeah. I would.” Tommy kisses the top of Jon’s head. Jon’s heart adjusts its sails.

++++

Jon grabs the files for the Foreign Affairs Middle East subcommittee meeting one of the aides assembled earlier. He had to rush back from lunch- the cafeteria was busier than usual, so he only managed to shove some peanut butter crackers and a bottle of water in his face before running back for the meeting. He hates being late, especially for a meeting with staff from other congressional offices. He doesn’t want anyone to think the Congressman's office is poorly run; it reflects badly on him and that reflects badly on Tommy and Jon would rather run barefoot over hot coals thank you very much. He has all the briefing materials and his laptop and is only a tiny bit frazzled as he walks into Tommy’s office without knocking. Tommy is perched with one hip on his desk and a pretty brunette is seated in one of the wing-back chairs. She must have gotten here early. Tommy is casually laughing at something the brunette has just said and she’s leaning towards him, like they are sharing some kind of inside joke. Jon stops in his tracks, and his stomach drops. Be cool, be cool, be cool.

“Apologies, sir, I- I didn’t mean to, ah, interrupt.” Jon stammers.

“Not interrupting at all, Chief.” Tommy breezily gets up from his desk. “Those the files for the meeting?” He gestures at the stack in Jon’s arms.

“Yes, sir. Here. The agenda is in the front pocket.” Jon gives Tommy the one labeled with his name.

“Awesome, you’re the best. Jon, you know Leilani from Ted Lieu’s office? She’s chief of staff over there.”

At her cue Leilani stands and extends her hand. “A pleasure to meet you Jon.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He shakes her hand, then hands Leilani her folder and sits on the couch, a well-mannered smile glued on his face. He is very professional and not at all judgmental.

Tommy sits on the couch next to Jon, picking up his conversation with Leilani where they left off before Jon barged in. Jon tunes it out as he waits for other committee members and aides. Leilani is very pretty. She has a pretty smile. She has pretty hair. She has pretty-

“Excellent! Looks like everyone is here!” Tommy calls the meeting to order. Jon shakes his head and runs his fingers over the touchpad to wake up his laptop. His hands are only shaking if you look closely.

The meeting lasts for about an hour, but when Jon looks down at what he has typed, not much of it makes sense. He spent the whole meeting feeling like he walked in on A Moment between Tommy and Leilani. Which, he reminds himself, is perfectly fine. He’s not Tommy’s boyfriend. Or Tommy’s girlfriend, if he’s being technical. He’s Tommy’s best friend, no more, no less, and no matter what Jon’s feelings are.

Everyone stands up and does the awkward end-of-meeting chit chat and finally Jon can go back to his desk to decipher his haphazard notes. He sits there, staring at the screen and quietly telling himself to chill out. Tommy walks up and places a hand softly on the back of Jon’s shoulder, startling Jon.

“I need a coffee, walk with me?” Tommy smiles down at him.

They walk to the Dunkin’ Donuts in the Longworth Building across the street, Tommy complaining—as usual—that the Dunkin’ should be in the Rayburn cafeteria, but then—as usual—decides it’s really for the best. Tommy doesn’t have to ask what Jon wants; he orders for both of them.

They are back outside waiting at the light to cross over South Capitol St. when Tommy asks, “Are you okay? You seemed distracted during the meeting.”

Fuck, how did Tommy pick up on that? Jon thought he totally had it together, and besides Tommy was running the meeting—when did he have time to notice? No matter what, he is not going to bring up his irrational dislike of Leilani, who is probably very nice and who Tommy can flirt with if he wants because they are not in a relationship and Tommy can do whatever he wants.

“I was distracted?” The light changes and they start crossing. Jon takes a sip of his coffee to buy time before he has to respond.

“Yeah, you barely took any notes and you looked a little shaky. Seriously, are you alright?” Tommy stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“Oh, totally, totally.” Jon tries to sound confident and maybe put a little spin on it. “I was just a bit rushed because the cafeteria was slammed and didn’t want to be late, and you know.” Jon shrugs. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Jon, what? I’m not reprimanding you. I care about you and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.” Tommy’s hand is still on Jon’s elbow, but he keeps rubbing his thumb over Jon’s bicep.

“Oh, yeah, no, yeah, I’m fine, really.” Jon tries to say it with as much light and air as possible, because it’s totally fine. It is. Really.

Tommy seems unconvinced, but he doesn’t push it.

Jon employs a last-ditch evasion tactic to lighten the mood. “Do you remember when we got caught in traffic on our way to dedicate a hospital wing at Mass Gen and you were freaking out because I had to write the speech in the car?”

“I was not freaking out!” Tommy laughs through his protest.

“Well the cafeteria felt like that today.”

“One, I guarantee you the cafeteria was absolutely not like that and, two, I categorically reject your description of my behavior as ‘freaking out’!”

They reminisce all the way back to the office, Jon needling Tommy for his anxiety over the speech, Tommy dishing it right back, given that the reason for writing the speech in the car was because Jon accidently deleted it.

Jon feels better by the time he gets back to his desk, recommitted to keeping whatever this is fun and casual, just like Tommy wants.

++++

Since the first foray into skirts a few weeks ago was such a success and given the sexy new (but still fun and casual!) dimension of his relationship with Tommy, he wears another skirt on Monday, pushing his luck and hopefully Tommy’s buttons. It's short, above the knee so it shows off his legs but long enough because he still works in a congressional office and he has standards. It's also a pale pink plaid, which is such a classic “sexy schoolgirl” trope, but damn if it doesn't work. A classic for a reason, Jon supposes.

Jon is sitting at his desk drafting a memo on technology in classrooms when his phone vibrates.

_Tommy [1:15]: you are distracting me_

_Me [1:15]: im not doing anything_

_Me [1:15]: i have no idea what you are talking about _

_Tommy [1:16]: yes you do_

Jon leans forward over his desk so he can look over and see through the doorway into Tommy's office. Tommy is holding his phone but staring right at Jon. Jon just gives him a little smirk and goes back to typing.

_Tommy [1:25]: you have no idea what you are doing to me_

_Me [1:25]: what am i doing to you??_

_Tommy [1:25]: _🍆

Jon almost drops his phone but manages to gather himself to respond.

_Me [1:26]:_ 😘

He places his phone face down. He really needs to finish this memo. He hears Tommy clear his throat. Focus focus focus. Educational outcomes. Teacher training. Student Learning Objectives. The office phone rings and blessedly an intern answers it, because Jon is having some serious issues with words right now.

The afternoon passes after one thousand years. Tommy had several meetings back to back with other congresspeople so he was thankfully out of his office, giving Jon the room to concentrate. He managed to finish his memo and sent it to Chairman Scott on the House Committee on Education and Labor for review.

Tommy gets back to the office around 6 o'clock. Jon has moved on to the next thing on the never-ending to do list, researching a piece of legislation about coastal erosion that could have a significant impact in their congressional district. They aren’t called the Bay State for nothing. Two aides and several interns are sitting at the conference table ironing out details of the bill allowing animals in battered women's shelters and writing responses to committee questions.

"You know what guys, uh, people? You can wrap it up for today. Get back into it in the morning." Jon smiles at Tommy trying to use gender-neutral language after Jon mentioned it the other day. The staff quickly packs up their things and scatters before a crisis comes up and Tommy asks them to stay. Though given their earlier text exchange, Jon suspects there are no crises outside of national disasters that would cause Tommy to keep the staff there.

The office is finally quiet, just Jon and Tommy left. Tommy calls out to Jon from his office, “Hey, Chief?”

Jon swivels in his desk chair, “Yes Congressman?” He tries to look coy.

“Get in here.” Tommy’s voice is rough and locks the door behind Jon. He pulls Jon into a kiss that is immediately at an eleven. Jon wonders what Tommy has been thinking about during his meeting on sustainability in housing construction. Based on Tommy’s grip on his ass he doubts it was renewable lumber sources.

Tommy abruptly turns Jon around and bends Jon over his desk. Jon’s heart is about to go into an arrythmia. _Mental note: get staff CPR certified?_

“God, Jon I’ve been thinking about you all day. You are so hot I can’t stand it.” Tommy runs his hands down Jon’s back.

Jon is deeply satisfied that Operation Plaid Skirt is a success, and grins at the wood grain of Tommy’s desk. He may have also shaved his legs—a spur of the moment decision in the shower—thinking about feeling slinky and smooth against Tommy. He feels Tommy’s broad hand drag up the back of his thigh, up under his skirt, and he was one hundred percent correct that his skin feels amazing under Tommy’s palm.

He hears Tommy inhale. “Oh, fuck you shaved?” He leans over, resting on his elbows, blanketing Jon’s body. He brushes Jon’s hair out of the way and kisses the knobs of Jon’s spine while pressing his hips against Jon’s. Jon might pass out from how much he wants Tommy right now. Tommy flips his skirt up. Jon’s wearing little white undies, nothing special, but it doesn’t stop Tommy from swearing. “Holy Jesus, Jon, you are so fucking gorgeous.”

Jon is gasping for air. “Please, Tommy, please.” Please what? Who knows.

Tommy grabs a handful of Jon’s ass then slides his hand between Jon’s legs, over the cotton of his panties, pressing rhythmically against Jon’s pussy. “Oh my god Tommy, oh my god,” Jon gasps. He’s already wet. Tommy keeps rubbing against Jon, slipping his fingers under the fabric and finding his clit. Jon can feel himself trembling and is grateful to be propped against the desk, Tommy’s body bracketing him from behind. “Oh, Jesus, fuck, oh, Tommy, oh.”

Tommy reaches over, pulls open a desk drawer, and opens a small box of condoms. “I can’t believe you planned this,” Jon says, somehow hanging on to a semblance of coherency as he looks at Tommy over his shoulder. Tommy’s face is pink, and he’s the tiniest bit disheveled. 

“I didn’t want to be caught unprepared again.” The thought that Tommy went out and bought Emergency Condoms to keep in his desk so he could have sex with Jon _in his office_ is viciously intoxicating. Jon focuses back on the wood pattern of the desk so he doesn’t disintegrate. He hears Tommy’s belt and zipper. He hears the condom wrapper crinkle.

Tommy leans back over Jon to whisper in his ear, “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” Jon nods emphatically and enthusiastically. Tommy doesn’t even take the time to pull down Jon’s underwear, he just pulls them aside and starts to slide in. Tommy feels so good, filling Jon so well, that he automatically clenches around his dick.

“Fucking fuck me.” Jon can’t believe how turned on he is. Tommy acquiesces, setting a steady rhythm. Jon starts to press back to meet him with each stroke. Tommy pulls against Jon’s hip, then reaches around to press against Jon’s clit and Jon can’t form any words anymore. 

Tommy is moaning into his ear, “baby baby my baby god my baby” over and over.

“Tom- please- don’t stop- don’t stop- don’t stop” and Jon’s orgasm hits him as he tenses up and cries out, collapsing against the desk, as Tommy fucks into him, chasing his own climax.

“Jesus JON!” Tommy shouts as his hips stutter and he presses in, hard and deep against Jon. Jon briefly hopes Tommy’s office is separated far enough from the hallway and with enough closed doors in between that no one hears them. It’s not all that late, and there is an almost certain possibility there are still people around. He doesn’t care all that much, in his post-fuck haze, but the thought does occur to him. It’s hard to worry too much with Tommy kissing the side of his face saying, “Fuck, you are amazing, you are so amazing.”

Tommy slides out of him, rearranging Jon’s underwear back into place. Jon takes a moment to reorient himself, while Tommy presumably deals with the condom and putting himself somewhat back together.

Tommy flops unceremoniously into his desk chair, pulling Jon into his lap. Jon is curled against him, head on his shoulder, legs hooked over the arm of the chair. Tommy wraps his arms around Jon, stroking his back and it feels nice to be held. Tommy presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “You are...incredible.” Tommy says it so softly, Jon wonders if he was even supposed to hear him. He doesn’t care, he’s too busy breathing Tommy in, memorizing his skin. 

++++

Jon comes back from the ladies’ room with the left side of his hair in a tiny French braid.

"Was your hair like that before?" Tommy squints a little at Jon's head. It's late and the one drink they decided to get after dinner has turned into several.

"Nope, I was just washing my hands and this woman was like, 'your hair is so pretty can I braid it?' So, I said sure. What do you think?" He turns his head slightly so Tommy can get a better look.

"I like it," Tommy runs his fingers over Jon's ear as he assesses the braid. Tommy has unbuttoned an extra button on his shirt, and Jon can’t help but look at the dip at the base of his throat. "Some random gir-woman just offered to braid your hair?"

"Dude, the women's restroom is _wild_. Everyone compliments everyone else. It's like spontaneous group therapy and a hype entourage all at once. You ever feel bad about yourself, just go to the ladies' room. Dudes are seriously missing out."

"Do you, like, _know _any of these women?"

"Don't have to. If you're in there, you are part of the support group." It's pretty amazing, actually. _Mental note: compliment guys more?_

He notices Tommy's empty pint glass. "Want another?" Jon's in a good mood, in no small part to the pep talk he got during his impromptu hair appointment (“Is that tall drink of water your boyfriend?” “Uh, maybe- I’m not really sure?” “Gurl, lock that shit down, that man is fine as hell.”). He isn't ready for the night to be over.

Jon walks up to the bar to order another round for him and Tommy. He tried to look cute tonight- which is definitely a new adjective to describe himself- he bought some skinny jeans that legitimately fit him, and he’s learning to wear clothes that are flattering to his figure. Alyssa taught him how to blow dry his hair and one of the office interns showed him the magic of mascara. He is surprised at the difference they make. He still can’t figure out why he hasn’t switched back to being a guy yet, but the satisfaction of feeling Tommy’s eyes trail over him helps.

He’s waiting for their drinks when a guy sidles up to the bar a little too close to Jon. Apropos of nothing he says, “You are the hottest thing in this bar. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He has a Cheshire cat grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

Jon instinctively scoots a few inches away from this dude. “Uh, what?”

He persists, leans in, closing the space again. “Let me buy you a drink. What’re you having?” He motions to the bartender.

Jon is trapped by the person standing behind him. He gives a little chuckle, tries to be polite. “Oh, no thank you.”

The guy puts his hand on Jon’s arm, and says smoothly, “Oh, c’mon, it’s just one drink.”

Fuck, can’t this guy take a hint? Is this what guys are really like? Do women deal with this all the time? Jesus, women deal with this all the time, Jon realizes. What absolute garbage.

“No, really, I’m fine.” Jon uses all the authority he can muster after two gin and tonics. Which, incidentally, is more authority than he could have mustered after zero gin and tonics.

At that moment, Tommy slides in beside Jon, slipping an arm around his waist, and pulls him in for a kiss. Right there in the middle of the bar. “Hey, babe, is this guy bothering you?” Tommy turns to look at the guy. Jon can’t see Tommy’s face, but from how the man reacts, he’s guessing Tommy could melt glass with his eyes right about now. Jon’s never actually seen someone _slink away_ before.

Tommy turns back to Jon. “What an asshole. Are you okay?”

Jon thinks being a woman for this long is starting to mess with him, because he can literally feel himself swoon at Tommy. He manages to get out, “Uh, yeah, that guy was just a jerk. I’m fine.” Tommy hasn’t moved his arm from around Jon. Their drinks come and Tommy keeps his hand possessively on Jon’s lower back as they walk back to where they were sitting. Their conversation picks up where they had left it- but it does feel like Tommy is now keeping a watchful eye on Jon. When Tommy offers to get the next couple of drinks, he keeps looking back at Jon from the bar while Jon looks at his phone and pretends not to notice.

They walk back to the metro, the cool air feeling good on Jon’s skin after being in the warm bar. He half-heartedly wishes he could fit his hands in his pockets. Tommy breaks the silence, “Hey, um. I hope you don’t mind that I stepped in with that creep at the bar.” Does Jon mind? He’s only been replaying in his mind over and over since it happened. Tommy is rubbing the back of his neck, which has turned a bright pink, obviously worried he crossed a line.

“No, no,” Jon reassures him. “It’s fine really. He didn’t exactly seem like he was going to get the message any other way. I can’t believe this is such a normal occurrence. I mean, I can, but wow does it suck.”

“Yeah. Men are the worst. Except for you, you’re the best.” Tommy grins at Jon, bottom lip caught in his teeth and eyes sparkling, to devastating effect. He seems to be in that happy, flirty mood he gets into after several drinks. Jon can attest from the other side that, at least when Tommy does it, it is exceptionally powerful, if anyone was wondering. “You want to come back to my place? Watch some SportsCenter or something?”

Jon’s also feeling good and buzzed, both from the drinks but also from being rescued by Tommy. He feels a little silly about it, but he knows it’s going to be recurring fantasy material so he’s just going to accept it as is. Also, the “or something” sounds promising. “Uh, sure.” Did that sound as chill as he intended? Probably not.

They get to Tommy’s and he pops open some beers from his fridge. They sit on the couch, but almost immediately, Tommy leans over into Jon’s space. “God, you are beautiful. Have I told you that recently?”

Instead of answering, Jon just presses his lips against Tommy’s, throwing his arms around Tommy’s neck. Tommy pulls Jon over to him, so Jon is in his lap, Jon’s thighs straddling Tommy’s hips, beers officially abandoned. Tommy kisses Jon’s cheeks, his eyelids, his ear lobe. Tommy says, “God, when I saw that guy hitting on you, I don’t know what came over me. I was so pissed at him, like, even though we’re like, I don’t know, whatever, but I totally lost it. I wanted to deck the guy. It took me a second to calm down before I could get over there, and, like, I know you can handle yourself, but you kind of had nowhere to go, and I just…” Tommy trails off.

Jon is breathing hard from all the kisses and Tommy’s hands solid and gripping his waist, “You just? You just what?” Jon looks into Tommy’s eyes, trying to figure out what "we're like, I don’t know whatever" means.

“I just…” Tommy takes a breath and starts over, “I just thought- he doesn’t get to have you. You’re mine. I’m the one who gets to have you.”

Jon stares at him, completely at a loss for words.

The confidence on Tommy’s face falters a bit. “I mean. Do I? Do I get to be the one who has you?”

Jon pulls back shifting his weight more onto Tommy’s thighs. “Yeah, of course.” It’s all Jon has ever wanted, but he also knows he needs to get the next part out. He can’t let this continue without addressing the elephant in the room. “But this isn’t- I’m not- it’s only-” He doesn’t know how to say the thing that could ruin it all. He sighs, still holding onto Tommy, which is somewhat grounding, and decides to just plow forward. “Look. You-" He pauses, regroups and starts again. "I. I’m not going to be a woman forever. At least I hope not. And I know you’re basically straight, so this is all temporary. And I’m into it! It’s fine! But that’s also because I’m really into you, Tom, so if this is all it is, just tell me. It’s okay if it is- you’re into women, and I can’t ask you to be something you’re not! But I need to prepare myself, so I know what I’m getting into.”

“Jesus, Jon-”

“No! It’s fine! I just feel like I need to put my cards on the table, you know? It’s fine.” Jon takes a deep breath. He’s trying to convince himself as much as anyone. “It’s fine.”

“You keep saying that, which makes me think it’s maybe not fine?” Tommy softly traces his fingers along Jon’s hairline, tucking a loose piece of hair behind his ear.

Jon shrugs. He’s always been drawn to Tommy. Working with him on his campaign amplified the attraction- Tommy has so much talent and potential and Jon worked his heart out to get him elected. He almost didn’t notice that Tommy had his heart in more ways than political. But again, it’s a moot point. This is a short-term scenario, which Jon is too cowardly to admit he’s exploiting.

“Tommy.” Jon closes his eyes; Tommy’s face is so close to his it’s almost unbearable. “I don’t want to ruin anything. So, if this is all I can get...” It’s embarrassing how selfish Jon feels right now.

“All you can get? Jon, listen to me. I will give you whatever you want. You want me, you can have me. All of me. All of the time.”

“Yeah, but, I’m only-”

Tommy cuts him off. “Do you remember when we won my first election? I kissed you then. I’m kissing you now. I don’t care.”

Jon is confused. Of course, he remembered election night, but they had been drunk and giddy and riding high on the win. That’s not this. Is it? “But, if you kissed me then, what happened? Why wait this long to tell me?”

Tommy’s ears are pink. “I second guessed myself. I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me, in that way. We never talked about it. I mean, I never brought it up. I should have, but I didn’t and then it seemed too late. So, I tried to forget it. Having you in my life was too important, and if that meant keeping you as solely my chief of staff instead of my chief of staff _and _my boyfriend then I was willing to make that sacrifice.”

Jon is speechless for a second. “What changed? Why now?” Jon _needs_ to know if it's the obvious- him being a woman- or anything else.

“Honestly it was seeing how you dealt with all of this. You’re so strong, Jon. If this had happened to me—if I had woken up in a completely different body—I think I would have completely freaked out. Like, really lost it. But you dealt with it like such a boss- you were so calm! You never panic about anything; you always adapt and learn and push through. You even changed our office culture from your experiences. It wasn’t just about you- it never is. You always want to make the world better for everyone. I love that about you. It makes me want to be a better person, and a better politician for that matter. You really inspire me. And I guess, even though this has probably been a really stressful, confusing experience for you, it was really clarifying for me.”

Jon doesn’t know how to respond. It's that _earnestness _again. He tries to deflect the praise. “It’s not just the skirts, then?” The joke doesn’t quite stick the landing.

“Don’t get me wrong. The skirts are great. You look amazing in them. I mean, you look amazing in everything. You have incredible legs. You have an incredible- you are incredible. Like, generally. But, you know, if you wanted to hang on to a skirt or two, even after you switch back, that would, uh. That would be okay too.” Tommy has turned beet red, but he’s also smiling.

“I’ll take that under advisement. If I change back.” He tries to stay with it through the whole statement, but he trails off at the end. Who knows if Jon’s life will ever return to normal. He feels a wave of anxiety.

“When.” Tommy sounds so confident. He has always been sure of himself- it’s part of what makes him attractive, and what makes people want to listen to (and vote for) him. He’s going to be an incredible diplomat someday. Jon, on the other hand, always feels like he second guesses himself no matter what Tommy says.

“Right. When.” Jon feels less confident, and his voice wobbles a bit.

Tommy takes Jon’s face in his hands, thumbs smoothing out Jon’s furrowed brow. “Hey, hey. None of that.” Tommy speaks so gently, Jon might cry. He squeezes his eyes shut. He’s exhausted. It’s been a long 8 weeks, and an emotionally charged night, what with the creep at the bar earlier, and this intense conversation now. Tommy brushes Jon’s hair away from his face. “Hey, sweetheart, hey, look at me.” Jon reluctantly opens his eyes, even though he can feel them watering. “I promise you, as a man or as a woman, hot or iced, regular or decaf, I want you. I always have.” In spite of himself, Jon laughs as Tommy pulls Jon down for a kiss. Jon buries his face in Tommy’s shoulder. _Mental note: buy Tommy all the coffee in the world._

He feels Tommy’s arms wrap tightly around him, as he scoots forward a bit on the couch. “Hold on,'' he says softly into Jon’s ear. Jon clings to him as he stands up, and Jon hooks his ankles around Tommy’s waist. Tommy walks them the short distance to his bedroom, and lays Jon gently down on the bed. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but Tommy isn’t winded at all and that is brutally hot.

They languidly make out on the bed for god knows how long. They are in no rush, and Tommy seems content to continue to kiss the breath out of Jon. Encouraged, Jon decides to take the lead for once. Until now, he’s always let Tommy initiate any moves because he never wanted to overstep or presume too much. But given what he is now realizing is a mountain of evidence, he feels sure of himself for the first time since he changed into a woman.

He rolls over so he is on top of Tommy and starts kissing along his jaw. Jon shimmies down Tommy’s body, shoving his shirt up and kissing his stupidly hot abs, following the sparse trail of bond hairs down from his belly button. He unbuttons and unzips Tommy’s pants, glancing up at Tommy to make sure he’s okay with what Jon is doing.

Tommy’s got his right hand over his eyes, the left hand tangled in the comforter, and he is making little “oh” sounds. Jon figures that’s as good a sign as any, so he pulls Tommy’s pants and boxer briefs down just enough to get his dick out and strokes his index finger along the length of it. “God, Tommy your dick is so nice. May I?”

“Jesus Jon, yeah. But- “

“But what? You always give me everything, it’s my turn.” He is lightly gripping Tommy’s dick, stroking the underside with his thumb and the look on Tommy’s face is rewarding.

“I always give? You do nothing but give! You take care of me- ah- literally all the time- you run my whole office, my- my legislative agenda, you practically run my life.”

“That’s because your office is your life.” Jon doesn’t move any faster, but he squeezes a little tighter.

“Ah, _fuck_.” Tommy gulps air. “Point taken.”

Jon licks up Tommy’s cock and swirls around the head. Tommy nearly chokes. Jon hasn’t done this since college, but it’s like riding a bike. Jon presses his lips over the tip of Tommy’s dick and slowly slides down, as far as he can go, wrapping a hand around the base. He bobs his head once, twice, then comes up to give Tommy another swirl.

“Jesus Jon, your mouth.” Jon can already taste a bit of precome. “You feel so good, I’m not gonna last.” Jon is pleased with himself, and decides to go for broke- sucking hard, but licking with a soft tongue, and stroking Tommy with a firm grip. It really doesn’t take much longer before Tommy is gulping air, saying “Jon- you gotta- I’m-” 

Jon takes Tommy in as far as he can, folding his tongue around Tommy’s cock. He softens his throat and takes a breath through his nose as Tommy floods his mouth. It’s warm and a bit salty, earthy maybe, Jon thinks as he swallows. Tommy twitches from the hypersensitivity underneath Jon as he slowly pulls off, wiping a finger across his lower lip.

Jon tucks Tommy back into his briefs before crawling back up beside him. He puts a hand on Tommy’s chest and feels his pounding heart and his sternum rising and falling as he breathes.

“Oh my god, your mouth should require a license and registration and possibly a 24-hour waiting period, holy fuck. I haven’t been blown like that... maybe ever.”

Jon kisses Tommy’s shoulder. “I just want you to feel as amazing as you make me feel.” Jon can feel the heat in his face, but he is still thoroughly delighted he could make Tommy feel so good.

“What you do to me, Jon. Holy hell. C’mere,” Tommy rolls to his side and kisses Jon slow and deep.

They eventually get out of their clothes and under the comforter, Jon sighs in contentment. He’s the little spoon, Tommy warm and solidly wrapped around Jon. It makes Jon feel small, and he doesn't hate it. “I can’t believe I thought you were straight.” He shakes his head.

“Why on earth would you think that? I literally kissed you?” Jon can feel Tommy’s lips on the nape of his neck.

“I thought that was an anomaly.”

“Seriously?” Tommy picks his head up and leans forward to look at Jon.

Jon looks back over his shoulder. “I’ve only seen you date women!”

“You haven’t seen me date anyone in like a year and a half.” Tommy flops back on the pillow.

“You were busy.” Jon gives a little shrug.

“I wasn’t interested; I was completely hung up on you. I thought it was embarrassingly obvious.” Tommy gives Jon an extra squeeze.

“Well, I’m embarrassingly oblivious.”

Jon drifts asleep, grinning into the pillow.

++++

“Jon.” Tommy gives his shoulder a little shake.

“Mhmhnmmmph.” Jon snuggles deeper under the comforter where it's soft and warm and presses back into Tommy, who is also soft and warm, but more firm than the mattress. It’s nice.

“Jon, honey, wake up,” Tommy says with the slightest undertone of urgency.

Jon finally rolls over to face Tommy, brushing his hair out of his face. Except. His hair isn’t long? He runs his hands over his head, his face, his chest. He looks up at Tommy from the pillow. “Oh my god, am I me?”

Tommy laughs. “You were always you. But yeah, you’re back to the OG.”

Jon bolts out of bed and runs to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror thinking back to that scary morning all those weeks ago. He takes a deep breath. He rubs his eyes assessing his face. He can’t stop staring. He is so, so relieved.

“Hey handsome.” Tommy is leaning against the doorframe, freckled and gorgeous. “Come back to bed?”

Jon looks over at him, and back to himself in the mirror. He has never been this grateful to have stubble on his jaw. He grins, “Yeah. Okay.” He moves to take off his panties which are now much too snug and probably look insane on him. But just as he gets his thumbs under the waistband, Tommy steps closer to him, placing a hand on Jon’s wrist.

“Hey, wait.” Tommy looks at Jon, blushing a little. “Leave them on?”

“Really?”

Tommy blushes even more, biting his lip. “Yeah. Um. I like them.”

Jon kisses Tommy lightly on the lips, knowing he could never say no to Tommy. He smiles against Tommy’s lips. “Whatever you want.” Tommy kisses him back, sliding his tongue against Jon’s. _Mental note: Whatever Tommy wants._

**Author's Note:**

> Some References:  
This [video from Vox](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vi2Vgym6lbw) explores why women’s pockets suck. 
> 
> [Safe Place for Pets](https://safeplaceforpets.org/) helps you find a domestic violence shelter that accepts pets or helps find a foster home for the pet while you seek safety.
> 
> [The Purple Leash Campaign](https://purpleleash.com/) is a place you can volunteer to be a foster home for a pet whose owner is escaping abuse.
> 
> Want information about how artificial hearts are often too small for women? Read this op-ed: [One Size Fits Few: Artificial Hearts Leave Many Out](https://www.livescience.com/52093-artificial-hearts-too-large-for-many-to-receive.html)
> 
> Make my day and tell me what you liked!


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